


Encounter in Eternity

by tiababylo



Series: Loop of Immortality [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Astral!Noctis, Astral!Nyx, Bahamut is a piece of shit, Being a god is shit, Dark Thoughts, Depiction of Death, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Immortality is shit, M/M, Mention of Death, and brief mention of Bahamut, brief mention of Shiva, feeeeeelings, kinda astral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24865273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiababylo/pseuds/tiababylo
Summary: It's during one rare day his eyes are open and bright that Noctis meets one charming character that brings a little joy to an immortality he want so badly to end. Even if slumber is good for a little while, bright encounters feels much better in the first dawn lights than dark nightmares about a death he didn't choose to live again and again.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric
Series: Loop of Immortality [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799161
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Encounter in Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> This is messy, this is probably the first part of something bigger, i'm not sure... And sorry for all the typos or problems with grammar or else, English isn't my native tongue ! I'm just back into writing and it feels as good as weird ! And sorry for the weird summary. I'm not good for it ! 
> 
> well, hope you'll enjoy ! and, if you liked it, stay tuned for a second part !

There was, once, a king who died for his people, for all the people he swears, silently, to protect with the light he shall bear, with the dawn he had to bring back from the eternal darkness of night. It was a tale many carried along the years, the decades, the century, and after some time, the tale twisted, becoming something else. The original one becoming something long forgotten and only a few could remember, already twisted by another reality that was equally true, in heart. The King of Light, he was called by some, by those who remembered the original tale, the first story that came with his name, now praised in high songs of love and worship. The Dawnbringer, he was called now as he ascended to some divinity that only a few could pretend along the centuries of humanity. That king of light, some said, became an Astral, a deity created from the eternal light of the crystal, becoming a pillar for Eos and the world, creating rules and delivering blessing to those in need of one. 

There was, once, a king who died for his people, but – unfortunately – also for the balance of the world to be restored. A king who died with a silence breath, with the silence of the night he carried with him after all, a king who died behind closed doors where no one could see the nightmares of the night that hurts him more than he wanted to show. A king who preferred to be left in silence and alone to carry his death, his ultimate breath becoming as sharp as his deeds were forgotten by the time, even though he helps restoring the balance of the world, a tale forgotten and twisted by Bahamut’s will. Another tale who became twisted by the century, by the prospect he had over the Dawnbringer. He was his pendant, his other half and, some said, that he was his evil side, something that couldn’t be more false. The Nightbringer, a king of night who restored the night and protected it by the price of his own life, who ascended to be an astral as well, becoming only a tale only a few wanted to listen as his temple was hidden in the shadows. A king who lost everything, even in death, his name long forgotten. 

New Astrals welcomed by the others with some kind of wariness, even if theirs deeds make them as good as the others. They sacrifice themselves, losing the status of “I” in the process, becoming only vision for people to look upon. The Dawnbringer, Noctis Lucis Caelum, was the most looked upon while not being looked upon as well. There was no day without a praise on his name, without just… a little something that reminded him so much of all the things he lost and couldn’t have back. Immortality, he thought, was such a sad thing when loneliness was the only companion. Looking over the people of Eos, watching them live and grow under his eyes was something he did, for a little while. But, as time passed, this became as boring as it could become and nothing was to be done except to fall into sleep. So he did. Because nothing else could silence the loneliness and the boredom the old king felt when he looks at the world upon his feet. 

Sometimes, when the time was right and the sun was hidden between clouds of rain, a little astral would come and launched himself on the armchair of the black throne Noctis sat upon. His fur, some kind of green mixed with soft touches of blue, will miss most of its shiny because of the weather but the soft touch of the fur will still be as fluffy as it was sunny outside. The little creature will push his little head under the king’s chin and nuzzle here for a little while, the crystal on his forehand bringing just a touch of cold to the Dawnbringer skin while his fur will always be warm. Sometimes, just like that, the King would let his fingers caress the fur; a comfort, something that could remind him of better times. Because, as much as every man would look upon immorality, the king finds it rather awful to be stuck in this perpetual loop of life, without the possibility to ever stop walking tall. 

After all, being like he was, stuck in this immortality loop with nothing but loneliness and the echoes of his old life, nothing quite suck like it. He could still remember the linger of soft touches from a lover on his skin, the echoes of laugh behind his ear, ringing always so far to trigger memories he wasn’t that sure he still likes. Because memories were painful reminder of all he was stuck to never have again. He will never walk the streets of the Crown City with a cap on his head to keep his anonymous profile in check, he would never stop by a coffee and take his usual overly sweet beverage. He will never stay in his bed all night, wide awake while playing a stupid video game on his mobile phone with his equally solar friend. He would never sneak out of his room and lingers in the street till he finds his old lover apartment where he’ll stay the whole night and freak out his advisor by his missing in the morning. Every little memory was a painful reminder of his state. Where the king knew he was dying to save his people and the world – partly – he was given life again, a life where he couldn’t reach his friend, a life where he saw them die of old age, one by one. A life where all he could do was watch, over and over, the people in the lands he saved, somehow, a life where the only bright side of his routine was when Carbuncle was coming and nuzzling into his neck like a sweet comforter that “no, everything wasn’t doomed to be that bad”. 

But hell to that, Noctis knew how bad his life now looked and how he could do nothing. He could not just kill himself and hoped that he will not come back. Bahamut will make sure he comes back somehow, just to prove his own point. _That bastard will keep me chained till the end of time_ , the king thought as his fingers traced the outline of Carbuncle’s fluffy ears. The Mighty Astral will do anything to keep the Lucis line in check, under his watchful eye. Noctis didn’t know why. After all, he did everything that was asked of him. _I let myself be killed by my father sword_ , he thought as a ping of pain came back from his chest at the mere thought. He couldn’t keep the memories away from him when he was thinking like that, and he couldn’t help the surging of sensations coming with it. He could still feel the sharp pain of the blade piercing through the flesh, the warm spreading over his fingers as blood was pooling over porcelain epidermis. He could feel the cold rushing through his veins as life was slowly living his body, as his eyes closed to emptiness. He could feel the weapons getting out of his body in the beyond before they plunged into the Accursed, he could sense the burning power from the ring as it scorched his skin. He could still smell the burning smell coming from his own skin, and the death rotting underneath. There was no escapes from theses kind of nightmares, there was no issue from seeing his death over and over, again and again in dreams he couldn’t control. There was always some kind of bitterness in this, in the knowing that he died. He died and lived again nonetheless, finding another kind of torture, another kind of death. Slow, tortuous, deliberately painful and endless. And he didn’t know what he did to deserve all the things that were happening to him. The endless nightmares coming with the night, the eternal vision of his own fucking death and all the feelings that came with it, like it was a way back machine. He really didn’t know what he did to deserves this. He fulfilled his damned prophecy and yet… He was still stuck, he was still a prisoner of an astral he hated, after all. _Maybe he thinks it’s some kind of reward for good deed? But, who, in good conscience, would want to live of life of eternity alone?_ A question that never had any answers, except for the strong nuzzle from Carbuncle, silencing his thoughts like he could hear them. _Well, actually, he might be able to do that_ , the king thought again, with the slight presence of a smile on his lips. His eyes will slowly come to close, his head resting on this fist, elbow on the other armchair of the marble throne and silence will be the only thing sensing in the old, too big throne room. And another pair of years will pass till he wakes up again, because… nothing was keeping him awake, nothing except a longing of grief he couldn’t hold every day without wanting to feel dead more than alive. 

One day, he wakes up, didn’t know how much time has passed. But he didn’t care, he knew that nothing has changed, because it never does. But he wakes up, dark blue orbs slowly opening to see, again, the emptiness of the throne room, reflecting so easily the emptiness he felt in himself. He could hear, without any problems, the sound of rain crashing outside and for once, he decided to get up. It has been awhile, and if he was still human, he knew that his muscles would have been sore from the position he kept for far too long. But nothing came, nothing except that little ping of pain from his heart, from the familiarity to think of “what if I was still human”. It was a bad idea to do it, he knows that well, but sometimes, he just couldn’t help it, he needed that familiarity, even if it hurt. 

He rises from his throne, looking upon the windows to see that it was dark outside, little stars decorating the black veil of the night. The sound of the heel of his shoes echoed against the empty walls of the throne room, the marble floor helping the echoes running along the whole room. The little golden trinkets attached to the cloak of his suit ringing as well, reminding him of why he was wearing this piece of clothing and not something else. Stark dark suit with golden accents from here and there making his equal dark hair a part of his clothing if he was not moving. But now that his body was finally descending the couple of stairs, his hair was slowly waking up again, moving slowly from side to side, framing his face made of porcelain skin. His lithe body was made even slimmer by the stark dark suit he was wearing and the whole place, darkened by the night sky, made him even darker. He was like a lithe shadow in the place, struggling to find the light he once wears. 

He stepped, carefully, outside the throne room and under the porch of the balcony, his eyes scanning the pouring rain falling into the city he had under his watch. The city seemed calmer than he remembered, even with all the blinding lights all around the streets, the add spot flashing different tones of colors: red, blue, green, yellow sometimes. Lithe figures he could see from the top of balcony, walking easily between the streets, the cars, the stalls. Breathing once, breathing twice, he stepped out of the porch to feel the rain washing over him, his bangs sticking on his skin like a second one he didn’t mind. The clothes framed even more his lithe body as his hands were gripping the rail of the balcony, nails tapping aimlessly against the ornamental rail. _Can they see me? Can they see someone up here? Can… They see me?_ He asked himself as his eyes followed the trail of some people moving fast to escape the rain, the vision reminding him how he was in their shoes so long ago. _Would they even look upon here ? Would they look after me?_ He asked himself again as he leaned a little to see more of what was under him. _No, they wouldn’t. I’m an Astral now, a fucking astral, for whatever that means and even.. Well, I’m only looked upon when needed. Maybe some don’t even remember me._ He sighed at this thought and as depressing as he was, he was glad that it was that way. He remembers the first time he was in these astral shoes, obliged to help people with so little things he could really do. Feeling helpless to soothe the pain and worries to those who came to him. He knew he became almost a foreign god, who never show any sympathy and he knew this wasn’t true, by heart but… He couldn’t do anything to help them so, instead of feeling helpless and useless every time, he decided to close himself off the world, only opening up when people came once in a while just to thank me or ask him something that he, finally, could help with. He was called a selfish astral, a lost one, an apathic one. He was not. He was just protecting himself from injuries that will last longer than the one they bear. 

He sighted, again. He remembers, suddenly, why he never came out after all these years. Because getting out, seeing the world living as it did, it was making him feels like shit. And that was even an understatement. He felt guilty for not doing anything because he couldn’t, he didn’t have the power to do it, to soothe the pain away. He felt sad at the reputation he grows into, at the deadly nicknames people makes him wear even though he killed himself for them. He felt sad for these people for looked upon him only to find no answers and no comfort because he _didn’t know how to help_. On a more selfish note, he felt desperate to run into these streets and claims his life back, and it hurts more than he could voice it. The apathetic one, they said, hurt by his own feelings that he couldn’t soothe either. Agony of immortality, a little voice in his head said. One who was doomed to die and finally, on the verge of finding solace, couldn’t find it and find an eternal life of pure misery. Desperation, anger, sadness, heartbroken, anything that he couldn’t soothe because it was his own demons, his own desperation for death. And when he looked down on this city from his high temple, he thought he could just jump and… End it all. But he knew he couldn’t. Yet again. He couldn’t help the people he loves and he couldn’t help himself out of a misery who crawl under his skin like a parasite. 

_Was it a punishment for something I didn’t know I did? Is it a new chance to live, even if just alone? I don’t feel like it’s a reward, Bahamut. I’d rather be dead and free of immorality. Is this really a reward, Bahamut?_

He already asked himself that and he knew the answer. By the eye of the Almighty Astral, it was a reward. Ascension, divinity, immortality. By the eye of a king who wanted, finally, to end it all, it was just a punishment. For what? He didn’t know. And when he tried asking Carbuncle or Shiva about it, they never answered, like their lips were sealed by Bahamut himself on that matter. So, he was stuck in this loop for eternity, always watching over people who didn’t came to him anymore, saving themselves the trouble of finding the apathetic one. Watching his own suffering he thrusts back into his slumber, into his nightmares and dreams of easy days. Easy days where the prophecy was just a little something he didn’t really cared, and like a lot of things, was merely a legend and didn’t exist in any world of some kind. 

He sighed again as he extended his hand, uncurling his fingers so the rain could trace the patterns on this palm, running against the ring he still wears after all this wear, finding the little scars made by wearing rough weapons. He turned his palm, summoning his blade in his hand, the roaring motor of the ultima blade breaking the silence of the balcony as blue magic began to crackle around the weapon. With a last inhale and exhale, he launched the sword into the building in front of him, his body disappearing in a flash of blue and reappearing on the rooftop. He launched it, again and again, finding in himself some life, some willing to live again. Adrenaline rushing through his veins as hr finally launched on the rooftop of one guard tower of the wall. It has been a while since the last time he wrapped like this, since he just gets out of his throne room. And with a smile he didn’t had for years, he let himself falls on the floor of the rooftop, the weapon long gone and back to his armiger. He had missed wrapping, launching himself from surface to surface, feeling the wheel of magic on him and all the effects that came with it. It was easy, it was simple, and it felt good. And for a split second, he felt like he was human again, and not some shitty astral contemplating a horizon that he could not have, the rain feeling like a washing machine cleaning all of his worries for just a little time. Maybe he’ll stay here until dawn came, until the sun comes out from its hideout. Maybe. Maybe for one, he’ll indulge himself the little pleasure, in a comforting silence, for once. 

A silence that was finally broken by a flash of violet magic and the same crackle that came with it, on his left side, after a little while. He didn’t move nor he dare to say anything when the figure finally appeared just beside him. Even if this figure wanted to kill him, he would gladly let him do it as much as he wanted to end his life, at the end. So.. No point into being an asshole at first. His blue eyes find, after some seconds, the face of the man that was beside him. Light-tanned skin with dark ashen hair with little braids here and there. Crystal blue eyes and long eyelashes, skin dotted by light tattoos he could see easily since they were being showed by the man in front of him. A wolfish grin on a mouth framed by a light beard and eyes, oh so clear, that were looking at him. Not through, like most people did, but at him. He could see him, and it hurt, it hurt a lot because while finding his eyes came also the realization of who he was. _**“Hero of Galahd.”**_ Noctis said, tone weary and little smug, as his eyes were looking upon the man who slumped beside him with no care in the world. Said hero who gave him a smug grin before turning his eyes onto the horizon. _**“King of Light.”**_ He returned the original nickname, not using the ones Noctis couldn’t bears to hear. Even this one, it hurts to hear it. It reminded too much of what he left behind to hold his duty. Noctis heard, by Carbuncle, at some point, that a new Astral joined them but he never did the travel to see him, never wanted to see someone else chained like him. But he knew enough of him to know that it was unusual for him to be here. _**“Not going home, hero?”**_ he asked, hoping that his tone would sound to his ear as innocent as he hoped it to be. The little scoff of laugh from the other man tells me that it worked, and he left his eyes wanders, for a little second, over the braids of the galahdian astral. _**“Home is no more, light king. You should know that. “**_ He wasn’t false. He was in the Crown City, that was right, home of his youth, home of his power, home… At some point. His real home, he forgot where it was. His heart’s home was lost with his life, he guessed. So, he sighed, slowly raising his head to summon another weapon, a dagger this time. _**“That’s right. But you knew what I meant, ain't you? "**_ It was like talking to someone he already knew, a familiarity he couldn’t really shake and couldn’t pinpoint where it was from. It was comforting, at least. 

There was a little laugh from the other man as his drove his eyes on Noctis, the tip of his fingers brushing along the blade of the weapon, startling a little bit the King of light. _**“Right, right. Well. Galahd is home, that’s right. But.. Insomnia is something. And I wanted to meet you for a while, King of Light. You weren’t there when I ascended.”**_ Noctis hummed, softly, at his words before smiling a little, just a little bit, remembering the little reprimand made by Carbuncle when Noctis stayed asleep that day, ignoring everything the world could be throwing at him. He had enough, he could indulge a day, even if that means missing a beautiful encounter. _**“Yeah. I was sleeping.”**_ He just said, throwing a side glance to the man beside him and not missing the grin that was on his lips at his answer before his hands left the blade, letting the King played with the weapon until it was carefully places beside them, not returning to his armiger. _**“First, you’re not even trying to apologize for that. Second, you’re really difficult to catch since you don’t really go out. You’re not earning points, you know?”**_ A little laugh, subtle, escaped from the lips of the King of Light as the throws his head back, watching the sky now clear of all clouds and rain. The little wind was soothing and the stars good companions to them. It felt good, almost real, and he felt almost alive. _**“Earning points for what? A blessing from the Nightbringer when I bring your night to an end?”**_ he scoffs, looking as smug as he was feeling, one of his hands falling into the humid floor he was upon. If the grin the other man wear was any indicator, it was that the flirt was beginning, probably, and Noctis was quite astonished by the fact that Astrals could flirt. Well, he was, like him, not born as one. But hell, it was still quite the shock. _**“That’s what you missed, king of light, by not coming on the day I ascended. My blessings are the best, such a shame no one knows where I lived to be able to enjoys it.”**_ Noctis knew that as well. The King of Night’s temple was secluded, lost in the shadows of a foreign country, deep into woods nobody dared to came across. He was called evil but from what the raven man could saw, there was not a little bit of evil in him. There was mischief, a little flirt and amusement, but not evil. That’s why he decided to play along. It couldn’t hurt, after all. _**“Well, now I’m here. You could show me.”**_ He said, with a little amusement in his tone, with a little flirt in the way his eyes were narrowing on him. His look and smile were mirrored by the ashen man who hung his hand in the air, his fingers slowly reaching a thin thread of hair between them. _**“Not today, King of Light. Not today. You must earn some points.”**_ A new laugh escaped both their mouth and his fingers left the raven strands to fall back onto his thigh as his eyes were watching the horizon. Noctis sighed, slowly, as he saw the first light of dawn. They both knew what it meant. Even if the king of light ascended to be an astral, it was even more of a punishment that the one Noctis got. The king couldn’t be away from this temple during daylight, only able to roam freely wherever he wanted from the first dying lights of twilight to the brightest one of dawn. He sighed before rising up, stretching his muscles in an old human fashion way. Something not quite useful, but something he did nonetheless. Noctis watched him with a soft smile on his lips, his hand catching the weapon he left between them before making it returning into his armiger. The familiarity was fading away and Noctis knew, deep down, that loneliness will come back as quickly as its left when the Galadhian hero came upon the roof. 

The raven hair man looked at the other, still stretching the bones and muscles of his arms over his head and Noctis could hide the little movement of his blue orbs when he saw the first rays of sun pierced through his skin and the ashen suit he wore, with purplish fur accent on one of his upper arm as well as too piece of cloak on his back. It’s not like he didn’t know, he knew full well why it happened – well, not why he got this restriction – but still, he was surprised to see it right before his own eyes like it was some kind of mystery told by the ages, like his own. The king of light was about to say something, maybe a little witty about the strangeness of light touching him, but suddenly, all thoughts disappeared to let just one tiny question linger in his mind : _What’s his name?_ He knew it, once. But now, the space where there was supposed to be his name was completely blank, leaving him dazed and quite sad, for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. The hero should have sensed the change of emotion from the king, because, suddenly, one of his hand was on his shoulder, a soft smile on his lips as Noctis looked at him. A fury of longing emotions he couldn’t keep flowing flashing into the swirl of dark blue that came with Noctis’ eyes, making the ashen man flinched a little, like he was as surprised as the king was. But he didn’t voice it, kept his thoughts to himself before removing his hands and watching his forms slowly fades away as dawn was rising on the horizon. _**“It’s always happening too soon, we barely talked. Your dawn, King, is not going to make you earn points, just so you know.”**_ He teased with a gentle smile, the tiny treat in his words so flat that the stress couldn’t even begin to pool in the other form. Noctis just shrugged before inhaling softly, his eyes leaving the hero form to watch the light of dawn pouring on every surface it could touch. _**“Well, your night is giving me nightmares, so… You’re not earning points either.”**_ Noctis softly said before exhaling a little laugh at the face of incredulity he could read on the other face, probably surprised by the flirty tone he used, and with a confidence he didn’t carry in his usual posture. He didn’t answer, verbally, only smiling while looking at the dawn rising slowly yet so fast, unable to shake the feeling that this was happening far too fast for his taste, a feeling of wanting to stay here taking some roots in his mind, already reeling with a ton of thoughts. Some that were stopped by Noctis voice. _**“Can you tell me your name?”**_ There was a flash of sudden sadness in the crystal blue orbs of the other man as he watched the other king, the realization that his name was even forgotten by some Astrals stinging more than he cared to admit. He didn’t answer right away, letting the sun coming a little more until he knew it was time for him to disappear, knowing full well that the other king was expecting, waiting his answer, looking at him with eyes going even brighter as the sun was rising. He inhales once, exhales once too before flashing a soft smile at Noctis as his body was moving backwards toward the end of the roof, his muscular figure disappearing a little by little as sun was pouring. _**“Maybe another time, Noctis.”**_ And with that, he was gone as quickly as he appears, as light was covering almost all the horizon, beginning to touch the tall walls of Insomnia. He left, like a ghost, leaving Noctis in a haze he couldn’t shake, with feelings he didn’t understand at that time, but with one he could comprehend: during that little fraction of time, he didn’t felt like he was a prisoner of his own condition, he felt human again; living, breathing, feeling. And the only thing he knew, before leaving the rooftop of the guard tower, is that he wanted to see him again, to touch the warm of the night smile on him once again, and to be able to escaped his eternal slumber. Because as much he liked to sleep and protect himself from the world by his own slumber, there was nothing as good as seeing the first rays of dawn with someone who could, almost, be the same as him. And for the first time since he take – not really, it was given to him, by force – this position as a new astral, he did wanted to see a few others dawns if it meant he wasn’t alone. 


End file.
